


A Better Fate than Wisdom

by UchiHime



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:05:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Stisaac ficlets from my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _kisses are a better fate than wisdom_ e.e. cummings

Stiles grinned and threw his arm around Scott’s shoulder. “This is why I love you,” he said, leaning in and placing a wet kiss on Scott’s cheek.

“Dude, gross,” Scott said, pushing Stiles off of him and wiping the saliva off his cheek.

“Oh no you didn’t just wipe off my kiss,” Stiles said, throwing himself at Scott and knocking the wolf over. They tussled, rolling around on the ground in a tangle of limbs, and Isaac had to resist the urge to go and separate them. He knew that they were just playing around, that they were just friends, but that didn’t seem to appease the green monster coiling in his belly.

He and Stiles had only been dating for a short while and Isaac had swore he wouldn’t be “that boyfriend”, the possessive and controlling one that wanted to know everything you’re doing and who you’re doing it with and who managed to warp every platonic interaction into something sexual or obscene. But he swore sometimes Stiles’ interactions with Scott weren’t as innocent as either of them tried to make it seem. They were always touching, much more than what was normal for ‘bros.’ And they would do stuff like this, wrestle on the floor for no reason at all other than to have an excuse for some full body contact. And Stiles always smelled like Scott. It was infuriating.

Still, Isaac wasn’t going to be that boyfriend and he convinced himself he was looking too much into nothing. Stiles exclaimed in delight when pinned Scott to the ground. “Gotcha!” He said with a laugh, then he leaned down and started covering Scott’s face in sloppy kisses. Isaac couldn’t hold off the growl that built up in his chest. It was one thing for Stiles to kiss Scott once in jest, but this was getting to be too much.

“Dude,” Scott laughed trying to push Stiles away.

“Don’t act like you don’t love my kisses,” Stiles said, still trying to cover every inch of Scott’s face in saliva.

Isaac acted without thinking, getting up from his seat, he crossed the yard in few strides and tackled Stiles off the top of Scott, moderating his strength so that the action didn’t injure his human boyfriend. Stiles let out a surprised squawking noise as suddenly being knocked over and struggled under Isaac’s weight on principle alone, before accepting that his Isaac wasn’t going to let him up.

His lower lip stuck out in a pout, but Isaac quickly wiped that away by pulling the teasing lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. He was rewarded with a moan from Stiles. Isaac grinned, before claiming Stiles’ mouth in a domineering kiss. Stiles kissed back eagerly, parting his lips and allowing Isaac’s tongue to slip in his mouth to tease across every surface.

Stiles always tasted so sweet. Not like candy or sugar, but an almost fruity sweetness that was uniquely Stiles. Stiles was also a biter. He caught Isaac’s tongue between his teeth and bit down on it lightly while Isaac tried to rug free. Stiles’ hands always found Isaac’s hair when they kissed, entwining his fingers in Isaac’s blond curls and pulling just hard enough to coax a moan out of Isaac.

Isaac could easily get addicted to kissing Stiles. Addicted to the taste. Addicted to feel of his soft, plump lips. Addicted to how his teeth just couldn’t resist closing around anything that entered his mouth. Addicted to the sounds Stiles made. Addicted to the fingers in his hair and the lithe body rubbing against his own. He loved it all. Loved the way Stiles trembled when Isaac teased the roof of his mouth. Loved the way Stiles chased his lips when Isaac pulled back to breath. Loved the way they Stiles held himself close to Isaac, inhaling the air Isaac exhaled. Loved the Eskimo kisses and how red and swollen Stiles’ lips looked after a heavy makeout session. Loved the look in Stiles’ eyes like Isaac had hung the moon.

All of this was just for him. All of this only Isaac could have. Stiles’ was his. No one else’s. And Stiles didn’t want to be anyone else’s. Isaac had to remind himself that sometimes. Stiles had chosen him. Stiles hadn’t wanted anyone else. There was no reason for him to be jealous, because he was the only one Stiles’ kissed like he would drown without him. He was the one Stiles loved.

Stiles grinned and placed another quick kiss against Isaac’s lips. “Silly pup,” he teased, rolling out from under him. “Love you,” he whispered in Isaac’s ear, before getting back to his feet and running over to jump on Scott’s back.

Isaac lay on the ground watching the two of them, the green monster in his belly fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given permission to someone to use this as the start to a longer fic. I'll try to remember to link it whenever it gets posted.

"Okay, Dad, this is not what you think it is," Isaac said, holding his hands up defensively and backing away from the bed where Stiles was sitting with a look of confusion on his face.

Isaac’s dad didn’t seem to believe him. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t believe it when Isaac told the truth, so why would he believe such an obvious lie, especially with the scene he’d just walked in on.

Coach Lahey looked furious, but he kept his voice leveled as he spoke to Isaac. “I think it’s time your friend went home, don’t you?”

"Yes, sir," Isaac agreed quickly hoping to calm his father’s ire by being complacent.

"Put a damn shirt on and meet me downstairs."

"Yes, sir," Isaac repeated, forcing the words passed a lump in his throat. He stared resolutely at the floor while his dad exited the room, not looking up until he heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs.

Once his dad was gone, Isaac turned to Stiles and grabbed their discarded shirts off the floor. “You need to leave,” he told him, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

Stiles gave a jerky nod of his head and started putting on his shirt. They dressed in silence and then Isaac walked Stiles downstairs to the door. “Are you going to be okay?” Stiles asked once they were standing outside on the stoop. “Your dad looked pretty mad.”

"I’ll be fine," Isaac lied, because he couldn’t really tell Stiles the truth. He couldn’t tell anyone the truth. Besides, it wasn’t technically a lie. He was going to be fine, eventually, he was just going to be a bit banged and bruised first.

"I didn’t mean to get you in trouble," Stiles said. "Maybe if I told him that it was my fault, that I pressured you…"

"No!" Isaac said too quickly, too loudly. "It’s fine. You just really need to leave. He’ll only get angrier if I keep him waiting."

Stiles frown, obviously not liking any of this at all, probably sensing that something was off about the situation but no matter how many leaps his brain took, he would never come even close to the truth.

"Alright," the Stilinski said slowly. "I’ll call you later."

"Umm, okay. Sure, but I was supposed to housesit for my dad’s friend tonight. So, if you call and I don’t answer, that’s where I am. I don’t know the number there, so…"

"Tomorrow then?"

"I don’t know how long I’ll be there, but if you call late, I might be here." His dad might let him out by then. Hopefully.

"If we don’t get to talk, I’ll look for you at school on Monday." Isaac could hear in his tone exactly what Stiles meant by that. If he didn’t see him at school on Monday, Isaac would bet that Stiles and his dad would be knocking on his door after school. Because Stiles was too sharp for his own good and he knew something was wrong.

"Yeah," Isaac said, forcing a smile, "see you Monday."

Stiles shifted awkwardly in place and Isaac could tell he wanted to kiss him but was restraining himself, which was good, because Isaac knew without looking that his dad was peeping out through the blinds.

"Right then, see you Monday," Stiles said awkwardly.

"Monday," Isaac agreed.

"You take care of yourself," Stiles said even though that wasn’t something fourteen year olds usually said to each other. He started walking down the path and gave Isaac a little wave when he reached the sidewalk. Isaac watched him go for just a moment, wishing with all his might that Stiles would have stayed and not left him alone.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Isaac went to face his dad.

—

Stiles did see Isaac at school on Monday, but Isaac refused to talk to him. Isaac didn’t speak to him again until they were sixteen and everything about their lives had changed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original [post](http://criminalwolves.tumblr.com/post/63535496178/heres-a-prompt-stiles-is-a-tattoo-artist-and-isaacs).

He came into the shop often, but never got any ink. He’d look through the books and wall displays of the different tattoos offered, or he’d stand over Stiles’ shoulder and watch him work, or sometimes he would just sit in one of the chairs against the wall and watch the different people coming and going.

Marked was the most popular tattoo and piercing parlour in the city and always had a steady flow of customers, so the first couple of times Stiles had seen the kid come in and leave without getting anything, he’d figured he’d just chickened out or had grown impatient with the wait. It could have been that the kid was actually a kid and didn’t have parental permission and had only come there to dream. Stiles had done the exact same thing plenty of times when he was younger.

Regardless of his reasons for being there, the kid didn’t say much and he seemed relatively harmless, so no one saw any reason to boot him out. Besides, he pretty face brightened up the place a bit. He was a bit of a distraction though, simply because Stiles sometimes found himself unable to take his eyes off of him.

The kid was tall, towering above most everyone in the shop, and he had this plump red lips that sent Stiles’ thoughts spiralling in a direction that made him pray the kid was actually of age. But what really got Stiles attention was his skin. It was pale and smooth and, corny as it might sound, seemed to have it’s own inner glow. It was an unblemished canvas and Stiles was an artist eager to cover it in color.

Stiles being Stiles, he had attempted to initiated a few conversations with the guy, but there was something about how he delivered his short and closed off answers that made Stiles not want to push him. After about two months of the him being there at least two days a week, all Stiles knew about the kid was that his name was Isaac. Everyone continued calling him “kid” anyway.

Stiles was relatively new to the tattooing business. His job at Marked was more of an apprenticeship and he was really only allowed to do the simplest of inking. He had a book for a sketches, designs for tattoos he’d come up with himself, that he never showed to anyone.

He wanted desperately to see his designed etched permanently into someone’s skin like a mark of ownership or just proof that he was there, that he had lived. But he didn’t want just anyone to wear his ink. He needed the right person. He needed the perfect canvas. And the kid with the too red lips and clouded blue eyes just might be it.

One day Isaac walked into the shop soaking wet from the rain outside. His curly her was darkened and plastered against his head, his shirt was damp, even his eyelashes were dripping. He slipped his hand under his shirt to wipe the water from his face, and when Stiles glimpsed the smoothed toned torso underneath, he made up his mind.

"Hey Kid, come over here," he called to Isaac, beckoning him over to his empty table. Isaac looked at him in surprise, before doing as bidded. "How old are you?" Stiles asked him.

Isaac hesitated for a second before answering. “Eighteen.” Even though he hadn’t answered right away, Stiles got the sense that he was telling the truth.

"You want a tattoo?" Stiles asked him, turning his back to dig his sketchbook out of his.

"I don’t have the money for a tattoo," Isaac answered.

Stiles barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “I didn’t ask if you had the money, I asked if you wanted one. Do you want a tattoo?”

Isaac’s tongue shot out of his mouth quickly and traced across his lips in a movement that left Stiles mesmerized. “Uh, yeah,” the teen finally answered and Stiles had to make a concentrated effort to bring his attention away from the kid’s mouth.

Stiles smiled and dropped the sketchbook into Isaac’s lap. “Pick one,” he ordered.

"Wh-what?" Isaac asked, fumbling with the sketchbook as if he was suddenly a hot potato and he was about to drop it.

"Pick one," Stiles repeated, "and I’ll do it for free," he added. 

"Free?" Isaac asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, free, so long as it’s one of those." One of mine, he added silently to himself. He didn’t want to see anyone else’s designs inked into Isaac’s skin. Isaac was a blank canvas right now, but Stiles could already see it. He was going to be a mural to Stiles’ work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original post](http://criminalwolves.tumblr.com/post/64847369508/isaac-stiles-let-me-take-care-of-you-if-not).

_"Let me take care of you. If not forever, then just for tonight."_

When Isaac had spoken the words, had whispered them into Stiles’ ear while hold him as if he was something precious and fragile that needed to be cherished, Stiles should have made it clear that if forever was in the offerings them forever was what he wanted. He should have never let Isaac go.

But he hadn’t claimed forever. He’d given Isaac only that night. Because he’d been afraid. Because he was a teenage boy and everything in his life was wrong and damaged and out of control. Even Isaac was broken; a damaged boy offering to hold him together.

But maybe if Stiles had been willing to let Isaac closer, he would have realized they were both broken in a way that made them fit together perfectly. They could have fixed each other. If Stiles had given them the chance.

But Isaac had said just one night would be enough, and Stiles had been too scared to promise him anything else.

_"Let me take care of you…"_

When Isaac had spoken the words, had whispered them with such earnest affection in his eyes, Stiles should have offered him the same. He should have said that he would take care of Isaac. That they would take care of each other.

Instead, he’d bit back the words and used sex to hide his fears and banished his emotions to a dark corner of his heart. And he’d let Isaac go and let him think a single fuck was all he was worth.

Stiles had told himself that once this was all over, he’d play the role of a RomCom Heroine and fall into Isaac’s arms, and kiss him with all he got, and declare his undying love, and they would ride off into the sunset with the promise of ‘happily ever after’ hanging over their heads.

"Once this is all over," he’d said.

Maybe he was an idiot to think that was the ending they were working towards. Their life was not a RomCom, it was a horror movie, so he should have known. He should have seen this coming.

But, no matter how many times he’d thought of the future, plotted his future, prepared for every eventuality… No matter how many ways he’d thought it would go, how many plot twists he expected it to take, how many possible endings…

No matter how many times he thought of his future, he’d never thought of one with Isaac not in it. He’d never thought this could be a possible ending.

He’d never thought all they would ever have would be that one night.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles knew how it felt to suffocate, to drown above water, to try your hardest and still somehow fail to get oxygen to your lungs. He knew the crippling fear of death. He knew the thoughts of being such a failure you couldn’t even make your own body work right. He knew tunnel vision and trembling hands. He knew craving something that was all around you but you just couldn’t quite grasp it. Stiles knew panic attacks. It was something he’d dealt with before.

This was something else entirely.

Stiles pressed his body tightly into the corner of the closet, trying to get as far away as he could as he watched Isaac.

As he watched Isaac clawing and kicking and pounding on the door. As he watched Isaac screaming and pleading and begging. “Let me out. Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

This was not a panic attack. This was not anything he’d dealt with before.

"Dad. Please, dad. Let me out." It was as if Isaac wasn’t here at all. Isaac wasn’t Isaac at all. His voice was so small, the whimpered plea of a small child. 

"LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!" He kicked the door so hard the wood splintered.

Stiles took in a sharp intake of breath, sounding all the louder in the sudden silence of the tiny room. Isaac turned. Luminous amber eyes narrowed in on Stiles in his hiding place.

Stiles tried to press himself farther into the corner, tried to make himself as small as possible. “Isaac,” he called softly, seeing nothing of the boy he knew in the wolf’s face. “Isaac, it’s me. Calm down.” 

There was no sign of recognition on Isaac’s face as the stalked across the small space towards Stiles.

All of a sudden, Stiles was panicking. His heart was pounding in his chest. His breath was growing short. He could feel the tremble in his hands. His vision blurred around the edges. He was about die. He was about to die.

This was how it would end. Trapped in a 6x8 room with a feral werewolf and having a panic attack.

This was how it would end for him. Trapped in a small space with guy he loved not even recognizing his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original post.](http://littleredtriskele.tumblr.com/post/62224292182/hi-stisaac-please)

It had started with an innocent piece of fan mail. Stiles’ fame was new and his fanbase was small but growing. He prided himself on at least reading every bit of fan mail he received, even if he didn’t have time to reply to it all.

It wasn’t strange for the person writing him to claim they were his “biggest fan” everyone wanted to be noticed and possessing a creepily large amount of knowledge about Stiles and a large collection of products with his face or name on it seemed to be the way most people tried to get his attention. Most of his fans were teenage girls that had nothing better to do than obsess over the next big name celebrity.

It was rare to receive a letter from a male fan, so receiving a letter that started “ _Dear Stiles, My name is Isaac, I’m 19 and I’m your biggest fan”_  was already enough to get Stiles’ attention. Reading the amount of personal information Isaac had saw fit to share with him, a stranger he’d seen only on the television, and about how Stiles’ music had helped him through all those tough times had touched Stiles and he hadn’t been able to keep himself from writing back.

After that, Stiles wouldn’t say he’d started a regular correspondence with Isaac, but the teen did write to him often and Stiles did write back when he could. It was innocent enough even though his agent didn’t approve of it. Isaac was a sweet kid who’d been through alot. He just wanted someone to sympathize with his pain and listen to him. Isaac liked telling Stiles all about his personal life and showing off his extensive knowledge of Stiles’ life.

It was when Isaac sent him a rather explicit letter detailing a fantasy he’d had about the two of them, that Stiles got worried and he attempted to gently dissuade Isaac from writing him further and persuade him to make friends with the people around him. When Isaac continued writing him with growing frequency, Stiles stopped replying to the letters all together.

That’s when the gifts started. First it was just flowers in his dressing room. Then it was chocolates and balloons. Unwanted as they were, these gifts were fine and innocent. But the gifts got progressively expensive. Soon Isaac was sending him clothes and jewelry and all kinds of things. And each gift was accompanied by a picture. Pictures of Stiles taken when he wasn’t looking or when he was meant to be alone.

Isaac was officially stalking Stiles and there was little the police could do about it because the teen had never shown himself or attacked  or threatened him. Stiles hired a bodyguard, a guy named Derek, as a safety precaution to make sure it never got to the point of threats and attacks. 

Isaac did send threats after that, just none addressed to Stiles. His letters to Stiles were always calm and filled with endearments. Stiles could do no wrong in Isaac eyes.  _"It’s not your fault that guy seduced you. Don’t worry, I’ll save you from him soon. There’s no way he loves you as much as I do. And if you think you love him, then that’s okay too. He’s obviously corrupted your mind. Given time, I’m sure you’ll learn to love me. I am your biggest fan, I deserve your love. Don’t you think? Anyway, I’ll get him out of the picture and we can be together forever, as it was always meant to be."_

A week later, Derek suffered a nasty fall that left him with a concussion and two broken bones. And that was when the worse happened.

Scott drove him home that night and offered to stay with him for a while, but Stiles had turned him down. “I’m not going to let this creepy kid control my life,” Stiles said. “As far as we know, he hasn’t found my apartment yet. All his letters have gone to my fan mail box and none of the pictures were of me at home. So, I’m going to go home, where it’s safe and forget that any of this is happening.”

"Are you sure, Stiles? I don’t think you should be alone."

"I’m sure," Stiles said simply, with a look of stubborn determination on his face.

"Alright, dude, but call me if you see anything out of the ordinary."

"Like a clown on a unicycle playing Flight of the Bumblebee on the tuba? That’s pretty out of the ordinary."

"You now what I meant! Call me if anything happens."

"If Freddy Krueger breaks into my house, I’ll ask him to wait while I make a phone call before he kills me."

"You’re joking right now, but I’m serious. Don’t make me call your dad."

"Alright, Scott. I promise to call if you anything is even remotely out of place."

"Good, now get out of here. You need to get some sleep."

"Alright." Stiles got out of the car with just a few more words to bis friend, before making his way into his apartment building. He waved to they guy manning the security desk and used his special ID card to call the elevator. The hallway upstairs was empty and brightly lit. Stiles dug his keys out of his pockets as he made his way to his door. He was already kicking his shoes off the moment he stepped through the door.

It was when he was removing his over shirt and making his way toward the kitchen that he noticed the guy sitting quietly in the shadowed armchair in his living room. Stiles screamed. “Who the fuck are you!” He yelled, fearing he already knew the answer.

The guy stepped out of the shadows and smiled. “Hello Stiles. My name is Isaac, I’m 20, and I’m your biggest fan.”

> _One day you will_   
>  _Learn to love me._   
>  _One day you will_   
>  _Thank me. You’ll see,_   
>  _If I can’t have you_   
>  _No one can._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post ](http://littleredtriskele.tumblr.com/post/70956756133/i-miss-writing-stisaac-fics-you-guys-should-send-me)

Stiles groaned when he saw the ballcap hanging on the doorknob of the dorm room he shared with his best friend. “Goddammit, Scott, not again!” He yelled through the closed door. “I need stuff from out of there! I have a test tomorrow!” He turned away and stomped off down the hall before he could hear the response he wasn’t actually expecting to come.

Three doors down from his room, he released his frustration in a loud sigh and knocked on the door. He opened right away. “Stiles!” Isaac greeted him with a large smile. “I was just about to stop by your room. You left your Abnormal textbook here Monday. Erica said there’s a test tomorrow, so I thought you might need it.”

"Oh, thank god," Stiles said. He’d thought his textbook was in the room he was currently locked out of and he would have to try to study from his own notes, which wouldn’t have been bad except that instead of taking notes during one of his class periods, he’d filled his notebook pages with doodles of superheroes.

Isaac frowned. “You been sexiled again?”

"A-fucking-gain," Stiles huffed. Stiles didn’t mind that Scott was popular with the ladies and was getting laid on a regular basis, he did mind that Scott never took his little escapades to the girl’s room and always locked him out of their room. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d ended up sleeping in Isaac’s room in the last month alone.

"Well, come on in. I ordered Jimmy John’s, it should be here soon. You can have some of my Turkey Tom."

"You’re the best, Isaac," Stiles exclaimed, not even thinking before throwing his arms around the taller boy.

Isaac chuckled and hugged him back. “No problem. What is Pack for?”

-

Three days later, Stiles screamed. “Dammit Scott!” He yelled, kicking the closed door in front of him with all his strength. The tie hanging around the knob shook with the vibrations, but didn’t disappear and didn’t un-sexile Stiles. 

At least this time he didn’t need to be studying for a test or anything. He’d had a couple of classes cancelled and had managed to get all his needed work done during the unexpected freetime. With another kick to the door, he turned and headed down the hall to Isaac’s room.

"Again?" The curly haired wolf asked.

"Again," Stiles groaned.

"I was about to start the second season of Smallville. Join me?"

"You’re the best, Isaac," Stiles stated. 

"I know," Isaac grinned. "What’s Pack for?"

-

"Umm, Stiles," Scott said, his puppy dog eyes on a full power already. "I was wondering if I could have the room tonight."

Stiles held in the groan threatening to escape and turned to Isaac instead. “Have you started Smallville season four yet?”

"Um, no," the wolf blushed. "I was actually waiting for you."

"Tonight then. We can make a junk food run first."

"Alright."

"You’re the best, Isaac."

"What’s Pack for?"

-

He’d been sexiled again, but by this point, Stiles didn’t even care. He was pressed against Isaac’s side on the wolf’s bed, snuggled together under a blanket. They’d just started Smallville season eight.

Stiles sneezed and Isaac draped an arm around his shoulder, pulling his closer to his warm side. Stiles smiled, ignoring the faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Thanks Isaac. You’re the best.”

"What’s Pack for?"

-

It was the weekend before finals and Stiles was looking to unwind. He’d been sexiled (again!), but that didn’t really bother him. He and Isaac and run out of Smallville episodes to watch, but hadn’t started any other series.

They’d gotten in the Jeep and headed to WalMart just to have something to do. “En garde!” Stiles yelled, grabbing a Nerf foam sword from the display in the toy aisle and pointing it at Isaac.

Isaac grabbed a plastic lightsaber and held it defensively. “Hah!” Stiles yelled, swinging his sword at Isaac. Soon it became all out war.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with a couple of eighteen year olds sword fighting in the toy aisle of WalMart. Even if the mother of a young boy who happened upon them ushered him away as quickly as possible. 

When he’d been disarmed and pinned to the floor beneath Isaac’s larger frame, Stiles couldn’t hold in is laughter any longer. Isaac laughed along with him, his face pressed against Stiles’ shoulder.

"You’re the best, Isaac," Stiles said once he’d gotten his laughter under control.

Isaac pulled him face from Stiles shoulder and stared down at him. “No,” he said softly. “You are.” 

When Isaac’s lips brushed his, Stiles couldn’t help but think that maybe Scott sexiling him so much wasn’t actually a bad thing

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check me out on [tumblr](http://criminalwolves.tumblr.com).


End file.
